Nothing about this scenario looked anything like tooth collection. No fairy wings, pixie dust, or magic wands. More like breaking and entering. I followed the lead of Mary, a woman I had just met that evening. We pulled into a circular drive, parked in front of this huge contemporary-style house, and walked through a fancy wrought-iron gate into the backyard like we owned the place. Only we didn’t.
“Now pay attention,” Mary whispered. “And don’t touch anything,” she added before stepping into a flowerbed. Standing only inches away from a window, she turned her attention to her phone.
I looked down at my feet. I wore flip-flops, and the flowering groundcover tickled my toes. Had I known I’d be trudging through a stranger’s backyard, I would’ve worn different shoes. What shoes were appropriate for trespassing in the middle of the night?
This is just weird, said the little voice in my head.